


All In-Tents and Purposes

by romanticalgirl



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Camping, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 01:23:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17992163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: Somewhere in the vague timeline that was/is Civil War, they hid out in the woods. Or maybe all of this was on purpose. No one knows.





	All In-Tents and Purposes

**Author's Note:**

> This quite possibly is ridiculous.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Steve gives Sam a _look_ , and Sam just smiles innocently.

“What?”

“I don’t know what things were like for you over in the desert --”

“Dry, hot, sandstorms. Good times.”

“But we slept on the ground or in holes. In winter. In the snow.”

“You’ve got a tent.”

Steve unfolds the tent in question, threading the poles through the slots. “So I’m sleeping on a thin piece of nylon on the ground.”

“And a sleeping bag.”

“Or we could not do this.”

“Wow. Who knew Captain America was such a whiner.”

Steve flips him off. “Frozen foxholes.”

“Bitch, bitch, bitch.”

“You’re not my best friend anymore.”

“Like anybody thinks I’m your best friend.”

“You are. Were. Not anymore though. I don’t like you at all anymore.”

“Oh, c’mon. Barnes is around and you get starry-eyed and no one else exists.”

“Not true.”

“Mm-hm.”

“Whose idea was this?” Bucky stomps into the clearing. “We haven’t suffered enough?”

“Ya’ll are the biggest damn babies.” Sam shakes his head. “Both gone all soft.”

Steve lifts an eyebrow, then turns back to hammering a tent stake into the ground. Bucky just crosses his arms over his chest.

“Don’t think I didn’t see you pack an air mattress, Wilson.” He gives Sam a wolfish grin. “Of course, I packed my knives. Wonder which one would win.”

“We said no weapons!”

“No,” Bucky shakes his head, still smiling. “You said no weapons. I never agreed. And even if I had, you really think I need my knives to rip your plastic mattress to shreds?”

“You’ve got some serious anger issues, Barnes.”

“My anger is the _least_ of my issues.” He walks over to Steve’s tent and frowns as he pokes the sides of it. “Who taught you how to set up a tent?”

Steve hammers another stake into the dirt. “You.”

“Why the hell would you listen to me about that? One, I grew up in the city, and two, you have never in your goddamn life listened to me.”

“That’s emphatically not true.”

“Name one time.”

Steve smiles triumphantly. “Listened when you told me how to pitch a tent.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Once. Once in your life when you shouldn’t. Never a single damn time when you should.” He steps on one of the stakes. “These are a little more advanced than pup tents.”

“What are they complaining about now?” Clint drops down out of a tree behind Bucky, completely unfazed by the knife against his throat. Bucky shakes his head and tucks the knife away.

Sam shrugs. “I don’t know, man. I stopped listening about the time Barnes started talkin’.”

“Why doesn’t someone make themselves useful and gather some firewood?” Steve stands and looks over the tent. It’s leaning slightly, but seems sturdy enough when he pushes it lightly.

Bucky huffs. “I’m still not clear why we’re out here and not somewhere with heat and plumbing.”

“Already a slave to this century’s excesses.” Clint shakes his head, expression sad. “I thought you lived in squalor in Romania.”

“I lived in an apartment in Romania,” Bucky informs him, pointing a metal finger at him. ”With heat. And plumbing.”

“And they say you were the greatest generation.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “I’m gonna freeze you on and off for seventy years, then you can talk to me about basic creature comforts.”

“Man.” Sam stands back and surveys his own tent. “We should go on Family Feud and play against ourselves.”

“We already did that,” Natasha reminds Sam as she comes into the clearing, dragging a cooler behind her. “Wasn’t good. Let’s not go through that again.”

“Point.”

“Where’s Steve?”

Sam sighs. “Probably pouting in his tent.”

“And why would he be pouting?”

Bucky stops arguing with Clint long enough to answer her. “Because _look_ at his tent.”

She tilts her head one way and then the other. “It’s just a little lopsided.”

“You know I can hear you, right?” Steve walks into the clearing from the opposite side, arms filled with firewood and kindling. “Even without super soldier hearing.”

“Did you rip those apart with your hands again?” Clint’s lower lip slides out into a pout. “You promised you’d let me watch.”

“I’m sorry, did he do what now?” Bucky asks.

“Oh. That’s right.” Clint nods at Bucky and Sam. “Neither of you were around for the whole Ultron, hide on the Barton farm debacle, were you?” He ignores Steve’s glare. “Steve was pissed at Tony.”

“So a usual Tuesday?” Sam says. Bucky leans over and gives Sam a high five.

“Well, he had pretty good reason this time. Anyway. So he’s out in front of the house chopping wood because, I don’t know, he feels bad about eating Laura’s entire pancake supply or something.”

“Something like we invaded your house and descended on the family none of us knew you had.”

Natasha smiles, smug. “I knew.”

Steve finishes stacking the firewood and bows his head. “I knew I should have stayed home.”

“There’s gonna be marshmallows,” Natasha reminds him.

“Anyway.” Clint draws the world out until everyone’s attention is back on him. “Tony pisses him off. More.”

Bucky snorts. “Shocking.”

“So Steve starts _ripping_ logs in half.”

Sam raises his eyebrows. “Seriously.”

“No shit,” Clint tells him gleefully. “Ripping them. In half. Laura stood at the window and watched. Pretty sure she was wishing she had Steve’s baby right then. Or, well, that he’d done the work putting it there.”

“Oh, God. Stop talking, Clint!” Steve kneels down in front of the firepit to try and get a fire started. “I beg of you.”

“Steve couldn’t’ve knocked her up anyway.” Bucky says as he opens the cooler to get a drink, dodging out of the way of Natasha’s hand as she slaps his wrist. “The original Stark fried up any potential rugrats.”

The entire campsite goes silent except for the sound of Steve’s teeth grinding as he clenches his jaw. “Thanks, Buck. Glad you shared that with everybody.”

“Sorry.” He does actually look it, but it doesn’t change Steve’s stony expression. “Figured everybody knew. I mean, between the spies, geniuses, and nosy fuckers in this group.”

“He has a point,” Natasha agrees. “Of course, even if we _knew_ , we didn’t talk about it.”

“Okay.” Steve sighs, lighting a match and putting it to the kindling and ripped-up newspaper he’d dug out of a paper sack near Sam. “I’m declaring a moratorium on talking about me sleeping with and or impregnating Clint’s wife. And my sperm.”

“I’da been okay if we’d never _started_ talking about it.”

Steve nods and sighs, jaw relaxing. “You and me both, Sam. You and me both.”

“Hey.” Scott and Wanda come through the underbrush, hands raised in surrender even before they see the weapons -- including Sam’s gun, which just makes Bucky smirk -- leveled at them. “We come in peace.”

“C’mon in, Tic Tac. We’re humiliating Cap.”

“No they’re not,” Steve says firmly. “Wanda, can you make me forget I knew these people?”

She shrugs. “Technically? Yes. Might make more sense to have them forget you.”

“Nope.” Bucky’s response is quick and emphatic. “Been brainwashed once already. Well, multiple times.”

“Me too,” Natasha adds.

“Evil god in my head,” Clint reminds them, even though Steve and Natasha were the only two there. “So nope. No thanks.”

Wanda gives Steve a shrug. “Sorry.”

“Okay. Hit me then.”

Bucky smacks the back of Steve’s head. He’s smiling, but there’s a weight to his voice. “Shut it.”

“My best friend, ladies and gentlemen.”

“Hey! A few minutes ago you were swearing I was your best friend.”

“No way.” Bucky crosses his arms over his chest, incredibly smug “I claim seniority.”

“Ha. Senility maybe.”

“You’re both wrong.” Nat walks over to where Steve’s settled on a nearby log. She kicks his legs apart, then settles on one of them, ignoring Steve’s surprised squawk as she throws her arm around his shoulders. “I am.”

Steve blushes bright red and everyone laughs at Steve’s expense. “You know what? None of you are my best friend.” Steve stands up, carefully depositing Natasha on her feet.

“Good.” Bucky smiles, taking any sting or seriousness away. “That means none of us are stuck sharing your tent.”

Steve huffs. “What is your problem with my tent?”

As if on cue, a breeze blows through the clearing. Steve’s tent sways, tilts, and then collapses, though the stakes stay in the ground. Steve stares at it and Bucky throws his arm over his shoulder. “That.”


End file.
